


Rain

by unanymousdeen



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Archive Warning: Depicitions of illness, Mentions of Violence, and language.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unanymousdeen/pseuds/unanymousdeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn’t sure how to feel about the looming clouds overhead or the way the rain rapped at his windshield as Baatar’s fingers gripped the steering wheel harder. He’s nervous, anxious, and terrified at the same time, heart thumping erratically in his chest. It was Lena’s twenty-fourth birthday and he hasn’t seen his daughter in three years. Archive Warning: Depicitions of illness, mentions of violence, and language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose this is my first shot at writing something very sad. I found inspiration after class and thought it would make a good (yet depressing) story.
> 
> Warning: Depictions of illness, mentions of violence, and language.

He isn’t sure how to feel about the looming clouds overhead or the way the rain rapped at his windshield as Baatar’s fingers gripped the steering wheel harder. He’s nervous, anxious, and terrified at the same time, heart thumping erratically in his chest.

It was Lena’s twenty-fourth birthday and he hasn’t seen her in three years. 

The drive is relatively silent, almost too silent for his own good because there aren’t any cars going this way on the road. It’s barren and lively, all-too promising for the day he’s been dreading since his daughter turned twenty-years-old. 

And Baatar has absolutely no clue what to expect. 

The staff aren’t surprised when he walks through the doors. Their faces remain deadpan as ever, void of any expression other than mild annoyance when one family asks when they’d be able to see their son. Their nurse tells them they need to wait because he isn’t ready yet, but Baatar knows exactly what her tone means.

Kuvira always wondered what these sort of places looked like. The vestibule was a false representation of what the government tried to conceal from the public. Baatar wonders exactly how much they really care for these patients since half of them, if they’re ever discharged, wind up homeless in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se. 

The nurse approaches him next, clipboard in hand. “You on the other hand are cleared to go on through. The doctor will escort you at those doors.”

His palms are clammy despite his calm demeanor, fingers weaving through his graying hair as the doctor points down towards the end of the hall. 

There’s one desk and two chairs in the room he’s taken. It’s cold and damp and unbearably eerie, every sound he makes echoing off of the brick walls. 

There’s a knock on the door and they push her in, one man slipping through before the metal door slams shut behind them.

“What the fuck, Zan!?” She shouts, her hair whipping back around her shoulders as she slams her fist against the door. “This is bullshit!”

Baatar instinctively stands up from his seat, approaching his daughter for the first time in what felt like more than a few years. It bewilders him how much he wants to reach out to Lena despite how afraid he is of her. Baatar wonders if it’s just fatherly-instinct, or that he’s simply telling himself it might help him, and possibly her, feel better like it used to.

She turns her head before Baatar has the chance to reach out to her. 

Lena’s dark, sunken eyes widen when they meet Baatar’s. She stops gritting her teeth and a single strand of faded hair falls in front of her pale face.

She reminds him of how Kuvira looked after a year in prison following the attack on Republic City. 

“Dad…what are you doing here?” Lena asks, reaching tentative fingers out to touch his cotton shirt. 

As soon as he tries to grasp her hand in his own, she reels back. “Wait, where’s mom?”

Baatar sighs quietly. “She’s…not coming, Lena.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming? She’s with you, I know she is, she told me she was coming!”

He’s completely baffled by her response, exchanging glances with the other man in the room before stepping back to take his seat again. 

The silence he’s met with again makes him more uncomfortable than before. Baatar waits for Lena to approach him, her eyes dazed and off in another world much like they were the last time he saw her. They’re more intimidating now.

“She calls me on the phone sometimes. I missed her voice.” Lena says, her gaze passing directly through him. “Sometimes the doctors won’t let me talk to her. They say she’s not there, but I know she is, Dad. I know she is.”

There’s another pause before Lena throws herself onto him and wraps her arms around Baatar’s neck, frightening him enough that he can feel his heart freeze. 

“I told her why I had to do it, but she won’t listen!” Lena growls. “She keeps telling me it’s my fault and that I could’ve stopped it. And then there’s red, _red, red, you knew what you were doing_. But she doesn’t understand, Dad. No one does.”

His right hand gently touches her back, hoping that the gesture might do _something_. Lena lifts her head, reaching up to feel the graying stubble that’s grown along his jaw. “Like metal. Old metal. Rusting metal.”

Baatar feels a wash of guilt course through his veins as he wonders what she could’ve been like had he visited her more often. _Would that have actually done any good?_ He asks himself, watching his daughter’s eyes scan his features. 

He can’t understand what’s going on in her head. He can’t understand what she’s trying to tell him, _if_ there’s anything to tell. 

“What happened to you?” She says next, digging her fingers into his shoulders. “You used to be so bright and vibrant.”

“I was home with our family.” He says quietly.

“Do they miss me? Do they want to see me?”

He isn’t sure how to answer her question.

She frowns, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. Before Lena has the chance to speak again, there’s a loud shout from outside the room. It turns in frantic screaming and cries for help before the atmosphere grows very, very still.

“That’s Ryu.” Lena uncrosses her arms. “His mother tried to kill him, too.”

Baatar’s expression falters instantly and he furrows his brows. “Your mother never tried to kill you.”

“Yes she did!” She balls her hands into fists. “Every night she tells me she will and then later she tells me it will be okay and that nothing will happen. Sometimes,” she turns around, reaching out to touch the brick, “I’ll paint her stories on my wall.”

Baatar knows that the hospital doesn’t provide it’s patients with art supplies. 

“Mom tells me to paint my walls with red.” Lena traces her fingers along the white borders of the bricks. He sees the cuts on her hand. “And so I do.”

—

Suyin is growing increasingly anxious as she waits for her son’s train to roll in. 

“How did it go, sweetie?” She asks, taking Baatar’s hand when he reaches her.

“It was fine, mom.”

His eyes are brimmed a melancholy red.

—

One year passes before Baatar hears of his daughter again. 

He’s in the lab at work when his assistant opens the door and peaks inside, claiming that there’s a phone call for him in his office.

And when he goes to answer, the voice from the other end of the line is unrecognizable. 

“Baatar Junior Beifong?”

He raises a brow. “Speaking. Who is calling?”

“Doctor Zōu, from the Yīzhì Psychiatric Hospital.”

Baatar feels a chill rush down his spine and blood run cold. “What happened?”

“Nothing of concern, sir. I’m calling with regard to your daughter, Lena Beifong. She’s scheduled for release in one week.”

“When was this decided?” He asks, jaw agape and confusion etched in his features upon hearing the news. He was never informed that the hospital had planned to release her, especially not this soon. 

“Recent pharmaceutical studies proposed a treatment that effectively treats schizophrenia for patients admitted in this hospital. Your daughter has been medicated for the past nine months and has shown ideal improvement. We’ll brief you with the details when you arrive—uh, I apologize that you were unaware—so that she can continue treatment without our care.” 

“How are you so sure it works?” He asks anxiously. 

“Trust me, Mr. Beifong, we’ve been monitoring her for nearly one year. Although, there is a side effect.”

Baatar leans into the table. “Go on.”

“Depression is a common effect of the medication. Lena may be unresponsive and reserved, so we encourage that your daughter be exposed to an enlightening environment and other positive factors.”

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. Baatar wasn’t entirely convinced, and the prospect of bringing his daughter home worried him slightly, but he had to trust the experts. He had to trust that maybe, just maybe, everything might be okay. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Suyin is excited to hear that her granddaughter was returning home, although she notices her son’s reserved expression as soon as she smiles.

“You’re not happy?”

“It isn’t that I’m not happy,” he starts, voice shaking and shoulders slumping. “I’m worried things might never be okay again, Mom. I don’t know if Lena’s even aware that she—”

Suyin stops him before he can continue, squeezing Baatar’s arm reassuringly. She knows how painful it is for him to talk about Kuvira. “I think she does know, son. The doctor said she’s stable. I’m sure they told her what happened.”

—

It’s raining again when he pulls up to a parking spot in front of the hospital. The last time it rained, the day brought an onslaught of dreadful memories and emotions. He wonders if the same will happen again today.

She’s sitting in one of the lounge’s chairs next to a nurse when Baatar walks inside. Lena lifts her head immediately, tears spilling down her cheeks as she meets his eyes. 

This time, when she reaches out for him, Lena doesn’t reel back.

The doctor tells him everything that’s happened for the past year of her treatment. Baatar is spared of the medical terminology, although he listens to ever small detail as carefully as possible. He’s always been an analyst, putting pieces of the puzzle together before forming a conclusion relative to the focus. He wants to remember what the doctors did so that he can reinforce those tactics at home. 

The entire time he listens, Baatar holds his daughter’s hand. Something about the gesture tells him she’s going to be okay. 

They didn’t have the same reunion as some of the other families and their loved ones. It wasn’t very emotional despite the fact that Lena cried, but she seemed to sense Baatar’s uneasiness and did her best to make him feel more at ease. She doesn’t talk to anyone, nor does she do more than accept his hug and hold his hand. 

Lena is mute for a majority of the drive to the station, gathering her strength and comfort from Baatar’s touch.

—

“We haven’t touched your room.” Baatar says, opening the door to Lena’s bedroom. “I thought you might appreciate that when you see it again.”

The first thing she says shocks him beyond words. 

“You should have burned it all.”

“Why?” Baatar asks incredulously. “These are your possessions—your memories, Lena. You should cherish them.”

“They told me what happened to Mom. What I did to her…”

Baatar stiffens. _Oh…_ “Lena, it’s not your fault.”

She glances up at him, eyes brimmed with tears again. “How is it not my fault?”

Baatar grasps her shoulders, his tone determined. “That wasn’t you—”

“How was it not me!?” She shouts, screwing her eyes shut tightly. Lena balls her hands into fists, roughly wiping away the waterworks that were spilling down her cheeks. “Dad, I _killed_ her! I killed my own mother—”

“Stop.” He says, pulling his daughter into a tight embrace. He lets her sob into his shirt because he knew that she would never recover easily, if that was even a possibility. “That wasn’t you, it was never you.”

“It was always me, what are you talking about?”

He weaves his fingers gently through Lena’s hair, doing his best to soothe her despite his own rampaging emotions. Baatar masks his own feelings for the sake of his daughter, rocking them in place to a slow, steady rhythm. He doesn’t want to lose her again, not after living the past five years without seeing her smile or feeling her warm presence.

“It was never you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lena doesn't actually have schizophrenia. But we learned about it in class and I was hit with the muse. This is an AU idea.


End file.
